A poem written on a gloomy afternoon in a Mexico City kitchen by a girl remembering not tea and the Queen but the mundane things that make up life in the unique Yorkshire city of Wakefield.
FOR MAXIMUM IMPACT AND RHYME: PRONOUNCE WITH STRONG YORKSHIRE ACCENT.
Stuff that ad forgot.
Fat shaved heads and Hall Green United,
Walking to the bus-stop and feeling heavy hearted,
Standing in the rain when you’re needing a piss,
Waking up after a night out with cuts on your fists,
Afternoons pretending to be ill at your grandmas,
Late night Mac Donalds in your mates cars,
Going up to Wooley Edge and beeping at the doggers,
Running up and down the stairs and TV remote hoggers,
Dead precinct dreams and the smell of a sausage pasty,
Coughing up fifty quid cos you threw up in the taxi,
Lupset slags and asda bags
and a red nose full of snot,
all thrown into the melting pot
of the stuff that ad forgot.